


Honey Whiskey

by El_Imprestavel



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Choking, Drunk Sex, M/M, PWP, They are not brothers in this, alternative universe, and have no power, so no bentacles sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/El_Imprestavel/pseuds/El_Imprestavel
Summary: Klaus has three rules: No Names, Only One Night Stand and Always Leaving Before the Other Wakes Up.





	Honey Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hadn't write in 10 years but I was high on Xanax at 4am and here's the result, after my wife edited and corrected it.
> 
> Thanks Xanax for allowing me to write 46 PwP instead of letting me die of anxiety.

His lips taste like honey whiskey.  
It’s Klaus' first thought when he finally gets what he's been after for half the night: the cute Asian guy at the bar. They don't waste much time in the rave - too loud, too peopley, too crowded. They leave in a hurry, only half able to keep their hands off each other.

For now.

The door, oh the damn door, why is it so damn hard to open? Hurry. Hurry. Hurr- _fucking finally_.  
The door swings open and they crash through, and the guy locks the door after slamming Klaus against it to pick up where they left. Busy mouths, busy hands - and _lord_ , Klaus has no fucking idea what the guy name is, but he doesn’t lack pet names for him.  
Baby, sweetheart, darling - honey, honey, honey.  
Must be the stuff he took earlier that makes him feel so good right now. Or maybe it’s just that the guy is talented, with fingers way too clever and a tongue that sends Klaus higher than cannabis.  
Or maybe it’s both. Yeah, surely both. Definitely both.  
It’s a secret for no one that Klaus is a bit of a whore. It’s not even rare that a random person walks up to him during a party to have some fun in a bathroom stall, a back alley or a cheap motel room. He has a reputation.  
What is rare, however, is for him to be invited (or rather, dragged by lust) to one of his dates’ place. Today feels new. It’s not even a cheap apartment, from the very little he’s managed to see so far.  
It feels like home, somehow. That kind of vibe. Klaus can’t really think right now but he feels, somewhere in his bones, in the vibrations of his heart in his ribcage, the rush of the blood in his veins.  
Maybe he feels like home because the guy, hotter than the sun, has him pinned against the door like a piece of art, teeth sunk in his neck, hands undoing his pants. He sucks in a breath. His skin feels too tight.  
Maybe he feels like home because they’re kissing as if they were trying to set each other aflame, and he struggles to take off the guy’s leather jacket, clumsy fingers more interested in trailing over the smooth golden skin. The guys laughs in his mouth when the blasted jacket gets thrown on the floor. It tastes like summer.  
Maybe he feels like home because there’s another door between them and the bedroom, but they’re both already a moaning mess whenever their hips roll together, the friction of their erections under the fabric creating a mix of pleasure and frustration.

Oh fucking doors. Klaus has never hated them so much before tonight. He can’t fucking think anymore, can’t think enough to open damn _doors_.

But the guy is a miracle maker. Slams the door open.

Pushes greedily Klaus against the mattress.

The rest of what they’re wearing gets tossed away, along with the worries on their shoulders, with the darkness rotting in their thoughts. No words spoken, just moans and groans. Skin on skin, blood rushing through veins with sins, their hearts beating in sync. More biting. More licking. More kissing. More sucking. More lube. More fingering. An endless teasing, making every second better and worst than the previous one. Making the patience as thin as a sheet of paper.

"God, honey– Just fuck me, just fucking– A-ah-.. fucking ruin me!"

A request, an order, a begging. A prayer. A mix of everything. Desire courses through him like electricity, and he wants, wants, wants, _now_. Wants the guy’s dick inside him, wants the guy’s hands around his neck, wants to dig his nails into the guy’s back, hold his hair, shout until the whole building knows he’s being fucked like a little slut and that _god_ , he likes it.

It’s like having withdrawal, the moment when there’s nothing in his system yet but he craves it so bad he’d get on his knees for anything that can make him high.

And fuck, that guy can. Klaus would get on his knees for him anytime, to feel high, fucking high, to lose himself with his beautiful bastard and never come down again.

"I can't say no to such a request."

A whisper against his ear, a breeze-like chuckle. And then the guy enters him, and Klaus _needs_.

More. More. More.

A few seconds wait. Way too long already. Excruciating.

More. More, _goddamnit_.

When the guy finally starts to move, Klaus can only hold his voice for a moment before losing it. He grabs the sheets under him, turns into the loud mess he is, screams of pleasure and lets the entire town know that he’s being fucked so _good_.

Not just the entire town. The entire world. The whole fucking universe.

It’s rough but it’s so, so good, and he wants more, more touching, more presence, more contact. He lifts himself enough to wrap his arms around the guy’s neck, kills their moans in a messy kiss. He lets their tongues dance together, bite their lips, playful and arousing. Fingers curl around his neck, a familiar squeeze that makes everything better, and Klaus arches his back.

Less air.

Less thoughts.

More pleasure.

His eyes roll back slightly, the pressure on his throat making him so close to the climax. The eyes of his partner on him, lust-filled and heavy-lidded, are making everything worse. Everything better. He’s close, so close--

Everything stops.

"Don't fucking stop, I'm so close! ..."

"I know." A bite on his shoulder follows the answer. "I'm gonna ruin you, just like you asked. I'm good at that. You'll be begging for it."

Bastard. Oh, glorious and horny bastard. The night is going to be long.

But lord, it’s going to be _hot_.

"Fuck me."

————

The chirping of the birds wakes Klaus up. Sunlight warms his face. Last night was long. Last night lasted until fucking morning. He has no clear idea of what time it is right now.

He rolls on the side, patting the floor to find his coat, and takes his phone out.

3pm. In the morning.

A good hour to wake up, he decides, even if his sore body reclaims more sleep. He slips out of the the bed, leaving the warm embrace of the blankets to gather his clothes all across the room and house. His coat in the bedroom, along with his shirt, boxer next to the door, pants in the corridor. He lets out a chuckle thinking back on how much of a hurry they seemed to be in, last night. Once dressed, he makes his way to the door.

Klaus has three rules: No Names, Only One Night Stand and Always Leaving Before the Other Wakes Up.

But when he tries to open the door, it’s locked. He feels a bit dumb. Of course, it’s not a motel room he rented for the night, it’s a goddamn apartment. No wonder it’s shut. As silently as possible, he looks around in the room, trying to figure where the keys could be. Not on the table, not in a drawer, not in the leather jacket in the corridor, not in the pair of jeans discarded on the floor. A few minutes later, he’s back to the bedroom, still looking up for the precious key. He really doesn’t want to wake up last night's fu-

"In my hoodie," says a half asleep voice from the bed. "The keys are in my hoodie's pocket... if you wanted to leave, you could have just asked."

Oh.

For a second, he wonders if he’s ever felt stupider in his entire life. Here he was, thinking he was the sneakiness bitch on Earth, while he was apparently as obvious as a hard dick in leather pants.

Klaus remains where he is for a moment, hesitant, before taking his pants off again, and coming back in bed. He shamelessly snuggles against the guy, who welcomes him by hiding his face in the crook of his neck, an arm around his waist.

"... Hey, what's your name?"

"Ben."

"Cool. Uh. I'm Klaus."

"Nice to meet you."

Awkward silence, quickly cut by a light snoring coming from Ben. Klaus lifts a hand to start to play with Ben’s messy hair, allowing himself some tenderness with this not-so-stranger-anymore. There’s a weird feeling bubbling in his chest from having broken his own rules so easily.

It feels like home, with a bit of honey whiskey.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Will it be more? Maybe. Everything will depends on next Xanax tab. (Or just in my inspiration in general, along with long nights of talking about them with a Brummie Wanker.)
> 
> English isn't my first language, I learn it all by myself, so sorry if there's anything weird. (But considering that my wife corrected everything, it should be good af.)
> 
> Thanks for reading this mess!


End file.
